


you are my universe

by 99izm



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Post-Canon, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 01:18:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13066137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/99izm/pseuds/99izm
Summary: Salar de Uyuni had appeared in a tweet that was floating on Jihoon’s timeline. He remembers how enthralled Jihoon had looked, and how he promised, “Let’s come here together, one day.”





	you are my universe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daquad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daquad/gifts).



> Merry (early) Christmas, and a happy 100th days to my daquad™.
> 
> Thank you to [Tiff](http://archiveofourown.org/users/parknpeach/pseuds/parknpeach) for helping me look through this! 
> 
> A note that words that are in **bold** are spoken in English.

_That time was like never, and like always._

_So we go there, where nothing is waiting;_

_we find everything waiting there._

_— Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets_

  
  


“Are you sure you have everything with you?”

Woojin looks up from where he has been staring into his luggage, to see Daehwi hovering over him.

Daehwi looks more worried than Woojin actually is, really. His fringe is pushed back with a band, but it’s rustled and messy. His hands are pressed flat against his waist, and his eyebrows are scrunched together in worry.

“It’ll be fine,” Woojin reassures. He takes a final look at the contents of his luggage, deciding that everything he needs is inside before securing it with a buckle and closing the lid of the luggage shut.

Woojin feels Daehwi’s gaze on him, and he can’t help but chuckle. He engulfs Daehwi into a tight hug, in hopes that it helps to soothe the worry, and makes sure to pet his head.

“I’m like, _what_ , twenty five already. I can take care of myself,” Woojin says.

Daehwi presses his cheek against Woojin’s shoulder, and Woojin guesses that he’s pouting. “But you’re going to Bolivia! It’s the poorest country in South America for a reason. You can’t stop me from feeling worried, hyung. Oh my god, and your English _still_ sucks. How are you going to survive?”

He’s ranting, but Woojin can’t help the smile that’s creeping onto his face. There’s years of constancy and friendship that’s shared between him and Daehwi, but a part of Woojin is still amazed at how they became such close friends. And he’s constantly thankful for Daehwi’s presence by his side, of his reassuring and protective sides that Woojin almost feels like he’s taking for granted.

“I’ll be fine. Jihoon’s going to be with me,” Woojin says, a tinge of soft laughter dancing in his voice.

The mention of Jihoon’s name is what makes Daehwi pull away from him, “Oh my god, I can’t believe I forgot. But yes, Jihoon-hyung.”

Woojin’s reminded of the box that sits at the deepest pits of his backpack (so that Jihoon doesn’t discover it.) And he doesn’t know why he suddenly feels the jitters growing within him, at the thoughts of saying words that he’d always thought about, but never had to say. Thinking is different from saying, and Woojin wonders if the words would eventually escape from the tip of his tongue.

Daehwi probably senses his innate nervousness, from the way he’s reaching out to hold Woojin’s hand. It warms Woojin up from within, but he’s reminded that he’s going to be alone when he’s going to say the words.

“I’m sure you can do it, hyung.” It’s Daehwi’s turn to reassure him, almost like his previous anxieties have all worn off. “You’ve come this far with Jihoon-hyung already."

He has.

And Woojin wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

“Yeah,” Woojin breathes out. “And I want to go further. With Jihoon.”

Daehwi smiles at him. It’s a knowing smile, like he knows more about Woojin than what Woojin himself knows, and he squeezes Woojin’s hand.

“You can do it, hyung.”

 

—

 

Their flight is in the wee hours of the morning.

Woojin mentally braces himself for the long flight that’s lying ahead of them. There isn’t anyone else with him at the airport, after his manager had watched him enter the taxi that brought him to the airport. He tugs at his mask, inching it higher, for there’s always the fear that _sasaeng_ fans could by lying around, even though he hadn’t told anyone else (except the immediate staff in Brand New Music, Donghyun-hyung, Youngmin-hyung and Daehwi) about him departing for Bolivia. They have  their sources, but Woojin doesn’t quite want to know where they get it from.

 

 

 

> **From Park Jihoon:**
> 
> are you here yet
> 
>  
> 
> **To Park Jihoon:**
> 
> you’re so impatient zzz
> 
> i just reached
> 
> wru
> 
>  

“Hey.”

It’s a familiar voice that Woojin realises that he hasn’t  heard for a long time. They had settled for texting over the past month as Jihoon finished up his drama, and Woojin would rather have him rest and sleep, than to force him to have a conversation. Woojin himself, was also busy, in having to finish up music promotions. It’s hard for them to find a common time, to go on a date, to listen to each other’s voices; but Woojin thinks that absence _does_ make the heart grow fonder, and there’s something about hearing Jihoon’s voice like this, after _so_ long, that makes his heart clench.

“I missed you,” Woojin murmurs, turning back to face the person who he misses so fucking much.

Jihoon’s wearing a black mask himself, but Woojin can tell that there’s also a smile that’s hidden underneath, from the way his eyes crinkle softly at the side. There’s that expression of longing that Woojin sees in his sparkly eyes, and it’s Woojin who pulls him into a hug.

“I missed you so much,” Woojin repeats, threading his fingers into Jihoon’s hair. It’s softer than he remembers, maybe, he had it done earlier or something. He feels the way Jihoon clenches his fist around his shirt and how he presses his nose into the juncture of his shoulder—and it feels like he’s come _home_.

“Me too,” Jihoon replies, voice muffled from where his face is squished into Woojin’s shoulder.

Woojin pulls away from their hug, and he lets his hands rest on Jihoon’s own for a heartbeat. He’s reminded that they are in public, that anyone could recognise them and take photos of them, so he nods towards the check-in counters. “Let’s go?”

“Yeah,” Jihoon nods with a smile.

They are walking side by side, hands brushing awkwardly as they drag their luggages across the marbled ground. And Woojin wishes that he could hold onto Jihoon’s hand as they make their way there.

 

—

 

Bolivia’s colder than Woojin had expected. But then again, they are about 4000m above sea level (at least, that’s what Jihoon told him). It surprises Woojin how well their trip is going: how they’ve managed to find the city center and checked into their hotel, even with their broken English.

Perhaps, they should _really_ have gotten internet access on both their mobile phones, but it had slipped Woojin’s mind so they’re relying on good old maps and hastily written travel guides while they had WiFi while waiting for departure. But there’s something nice about that: to be disconnected from the world for the majority of the time, and Woojin can relish in the moments that belong solely to _them_ without any distractions.

They are in the hotel room that they booked beforehand. It’s not the best, nothing like the suites that they’d stay when they were on tour as Wanna One, but Jihoon’s by his side, and Woojin thinks that it’s better than any room that money could ever buy.

Jihoon’s humming as he draws on the places that he wants to visit on the map, lying down on the bed while kicking his legs in the air. Woojin finds his heart clenching at the sight, realising how much he misses the small moments like _these,_ and how fucking whipped he is for Jihoon, that he loves all of Jihoon.

“Take a picture,” Jihoon says, without looking up from the map. “It’ll last longer.”

“Don’t be so egotistical,” Woojin deadpans. It’s only now that Woojin remembers that Daehwi had stuffed a SLR into his bag. He isn’t the best at capturing moments, but Jihoon is always beautiful—and he figures that he should take some pictures of _them_ , if, well, everything goes right.

He had stuffed the velvet box into the deepest compartment of his backpack. Jihoon’s always quick to realise Things, and Woojin hopes that there won’t be a need for Jihoon to have a look at his backpack.

He does walk to his backpack though, to take out the camera that he’s glad to find out is fully charged. It’s a SLR camera, not as complicated as a DSLR (that he secretly admires all his fansites for being able to use) and he zooms into Jihoon.

And it’s in moments like these where he’s reminded of how _beautiful_ Jihoon is, for he’s just being himself. Not Jeojang Jihoon, not Dorm Jihoon, not Maroo Entertainment’s Park Jihoon—but Park Jihoon, and Woojin finds himself falling in love with Jihoon all over again. Just a little, you know?  

_Snap._

 

—

 

There’s something nice about the lack of alarms, of being able to sleep in till whatever time Woojin wants to. But maybe it’s also because there’s the feeling of Jihoon’s skin against his own, and he’s able to wrap his arms around the love of his life, that it makes him never want to break the embrace, and stay in bed for a long time to come.

He finds himself waking up eventually. And it feels so fucking surreal, _too_ fucking long since he last had Jihoon in his arms. His arm feels dead from where Jihoon had been sleeping on, and it reminds him of how _real_ everything is. He watches the way Jihoon sleeps peacefully, the way his long eyelashes brushes against his closed lids, the way his chest heaves up and down slowly but gently, and the way he clutches onto Woojin’s shirt with a clenched fist, like he’s afraid that Woojin would leave him in his sleep.  
It makes Woojin heart ache when he sees the desperation in the curled fingers, and Woojin wishes that he could do something about it.

There’s too many days and months of longing, of wanting to be together despite the distance. And Woojin can’t do anything. But if it’s now, he _can_ do something about it, so he pulls Jihoon closer into his embrace, presses his nose into Jihoon’s hair. It smells of the hotel shampoo that they both are using, but there’s something about the dry strands that remind Woojin that it’s Jihoon, it’s _home_.

The sounds of their breathing is the only music that he needs to fall asleep again.

  
  


“Wake up!”

There’s a pillow thrown at his face, and that’s what makes Woojin stir. He groans when the harsh sunlight hits his face. Ugh, Jihoon and his habit of opening the curtains in the morning. Jihoon likes relishing in the morning air and the sun, and Woojin would like that several more seconds of sleep but he thinks, he likes to be awake too—so that he can see the way the sunlight shines on Jihoon’s pale skin.

“What time is it?” Woojin groans. It’s hard to blink the sleep out of his eyes. But he manages to do so eventually, and he gazes around the room so he can find Jihoon.

Jihoon enters his line of vision when Woojin focuses on the little couch in their room. His hair is in disarray from sleep, and he’s cradling a cup of hot tea in his palms, while having his knees pulled to his chest. “It’s 9 in the morning.”

It’s way too early for them to both be up, considering that they actually take vacations so that they can get the sleep that they need, so that they don’t have to wake up at ass o’ clock for schedules. And Woojin groans again, “Why did you wake me up so early?

There’s a pout that starts to form on Jihoon’s lips, which makes him look smaller than he actually is, and suddenly, Woojin misses the feeling of Jihoon in his arms. He wonders if he’s being a tad _too_ clingy (but he’d blame his just-awake self), but perhaps, he doesn’t have to worry about anything at all because Jihoon says:

“I didn’t want to be alone.”

“So wake up proper, you stupid shit!” He throws another pillow from behind him but Woojin’s fighting the urge not to smile, not to coo from how warm his heart feels.

He climbs out of bed, and he presses the entirety of his weight against Jihoon, who yelps, “Excuse me! My tea is _hot!_ ”

Woojin just grins at him, taking the cup of tea out of his hands so that he can put it on the table. When it’s safely away from them, he presses Jihoon deeper into the couch, and wraps his arms around Jihoon’s waist. It’s smaller than he remembers, which makes him frown slightly. Jihoon’s writhing underneath him, his ears flushed but he doesn’t actually move away from Woojin and it makes Woojin press a kiss to Jihoon’s open mouth.

“Love you too, babe,” Woojin whispers.

“Oh god, go away! You have morning breath!”

Woojin laughs as Jihoon scowls at him. But Jihoon has his arms around his waist too, and Woojin thinks: _This is love._

  
  


They eventually head out when it’s closer to lunchtime, and when Jihoon’s stomach starts rumbling. Woojin decides that he’s on a mission for them to eat as much as they want, before they are back in South Korea, and they have to go back to the strict diets that he hates so much.

Woojin smiles whenever he turns to his side, and sees Jihoon’s hoodie. Well, it’s not _his_ but Woojin’s own, and Woojin loves it so fucking much whenever Jihoon wears something of his. He wonders if they have fans in this side of the world as their hands brush against each other, as they are walking down the streets to find food. He wishes that they weren’t Maroo Entertainment’s Park Jihoon and Brand New Music’s Park Woojin, so that he could easily grab Jihoon’s hand in public, and press a kiss to his knuckles whenever he wants to.

As he walks down the street, he glances around to see that no one has been staring at them, much more, taking photographs of them. Woojin takes a huge breath. It’s a leap of faith, to be doing something like _this_ in public, but he wonders if he’d ever get a chance to do this again, so he decides to grab onto Jihoon’s hand, and the spaces of their fingers fit so perfectly, like it had always.

“What are you doing,” Jihoon splutters.

“I’m glad that I can still make you blush,” Woojin grins. He tightens their grip, as if they could get any closer, and Jihoon only looks down in embarrassment.

“I’m hungry,” Jihoon says. “Find me food.”

“Alright, babe,” Woojin laughs. It’s just like Jihoon to be like this whenever Woojin says something that makes his heart race, but somewhere along the lines, Woojin had discovered that this _is_ Jihoon, and Woojin still loves him.

  
  


They end up in some restaurant that has a long queue because long queues usually _do_ mean that the food is good, right? They are, after all, at a place so far away from home, so Woojin doesn’t even mind the extra long waiting time. But he thinks, the reason why _anything_ and _everything_ is okay is because Jihoon is by his side, and the very fact that they feel like they are _nobody_ in this foreign land, and it brings a smile to his face that he’s just like everyone else: nameless strangers.

They eat food that they’ve seen on travel sites, something with chicken and potatoes and quinoa. The food tastes very different from what he’s used to back home, probably cooked with different spices and different methods, but he watches Jihoon gulp down the food with the most content face, and hey, he thinks he’s content too.

 _Snap_.

  
  


It’s nice that La Paz’s chilly and cooling—the perfect temperature that the both of them like, because it means that they get to walk around the streets, bask in the everyday lives of the regular citizen without breaking a sweat.

There are beautifully coloured murals that they walk past. While Woojin wouldn’t think of himself as someone who really _knows_ art, he can tell that there are stories that are interweaved in between the colours and the paint strokes. He wonders if it’s alright for them, _tourists_ , to take photos with the murals, for it feels almost invasive. So he settles for taking photos of the murals alone.

There’s a particular strong gust of wind that blows in their direction, and Woojin watches the way Jihoon’s hair sways with the wind, and also the way he wraps his arms around himself. Woojin frowns at that, but he makes a mental note to get a shawl, a scarf, a muffler—anything like that for JIhoon later.

From the side, he can see the way Jihoon lights up in the sheer amazement of their surroundings, of the beautiful murals. He sees the gentle sharpness of his jawline, the slope of his nose, the fluttering of his eyelashes—

 _Snap_.

“Stop taking photos of me,” jihoon huffs. He looks at the camera when he hears the shutter go off, and Woojin grins at him.

“But you’re beautiful.”

“Am not!”

Woojin releases his hold on his camera so that he can hold onto Jihoon’s hand, and press a kiss to his knuckles. He wonders how he looks like to a stranger: does he look as whipped, and as in love as he thinks he does?

Jihoon flushes red, but he tightens his own grip on Woojin’s fingers.

 

—

 

Woojin isn’t really a religious person, but they decide to head to Cochabamba the next day. They have heard that there are also more beautiful murals that are in the city, together with Cristo de la Concordia, a status of Jesus Christ that’s located atop the San Pedro Hill. They’ve managed to book a rental car with the help of Daehwi before they left South Korea, but Jihoon had found it hard to wake up this morning, so they’re ordering breakfast at some cafe.

He remembers how he used to fall asleep to the taste of saccharine sweet frappes on his tongue, but as the time passes, he switches from the frappes to lattes to americanos, and slowly begins his caffeine reliance. Jihoon still sticks with his teas.

They get a table by the counter as they get to take a look at the staff manning the machine. It’s peaceful and nice, and Woojin thinks that it’s these small, quiet moments that count.

Perhaps, it’s the sound of his and Jihoon’s conversations, their foreign tongue that hits the ears of the friendly staff, because a female staff speaks to them as she’s cleaning the cups, “ **Where are you from?** ”

Woojin and Jihoon share a quick glance. Jihoon takes a sip of his hot tea, gaze looking away hurriedly and Woojin takes it upon himself to speak, “ **South Korea.** ”

“ **That’s really far** !” English is hard, Woojin thinks. But he knows the words, knows enough vocabulary (thanks to Daehwi who had pumped in English lessons before he left) to understand her words. “ **What are you doing here**?”

He wonders what he should say, and he can feel the laughter rumbling within him, but he grins at her after taking a small, soft glance at Jihoon. “ **_We’re eloping_**.”

“Oh my!” The staff exclaims with widened eyes and a gasp.

Woojin laughs at her reaction, and it’s Jihoon who tugs at his sleeve. “What the fuck did you just say, Park Woojin.”

Woojin wonders if he should tell Jihoon the truth. But there’s something about the way Jihoon’s eyebrows are furrowed in curiosity, and the way he’s tugging harshly at his sleeve that Woojin feels like keeping it a secret for just a _little_ longer.

“Secret!” He says, putting a finger to his lips and giving a wink.

Jihoon huffs, and making sure to put some weight into his hands as he tries to push Woojin off his seat. “Go away, you ass!”

The staff merely laughs at their antics, and she’s looking into Woojin’s eyes, “ **I hope you’ll be happy, always**.”

It’s easy for the smile to creep onto his face, at how she’s using the simplest English words so that she’s able to convey her genuine, sincere thoughts to him. And Woojin nods at her direction, “ **Thank you**.”

She grins at him again, before another customer enters the shop and she’s looking away from them. Woojin looks at Jihoon, who has his hands crossed and he’s blowing air at his bangs. And Woojin can’t help but smile wider, feeling so utterly in love with him. He extends his arm so that he can pull Jihoon in closer, but Jihoon just scoots away as best as he can, even though they are both sitting on high chairs.

“Stop talking to me,” Jihoon spits out. “You can continue flirting with _her_.”

“Babe,” Woojin tugs at Jihoon’s sleeve, wanting him to look into his direction. “Want me to tell you what happened?”

If there were cat ears on Jihoon’s head, Woojin thinks that they’d be twitching in his direction. Jihoon turns to face Woojin slowly, and he’s looking down at the table; wanting to face Woojin, but not quite wanting to, as well: “What?”

“I told her that we’re _eloping_.”

“What the fuck,” Jihoon deadpans. He stabs his fork into a spinach leaf before flicking it in the direction of Woojin’s face. “ _Eloping._ What.”

“Aren’t we?” Woojin winks at him. “We’re together, alone, in a foreign country, that speaks a language that we don’t. We don’t even have WiFi.”

“Our hotels offer free WiFi.”

“Shush,” Woojin glares at Jihoon.

Jihoon just rolls his eyes.

 

—

 

They manage to safely get onto the car that they’ve booked. Woojin’s thankful that he _did_ ask Daehwi for help beforehand, and relied on _Daehwi’s Dummy Guide To Speaking English_ that was haphazardly stuffed in his wallet, in between the foreign notes.

It’s nice that he learnt how to drive, as they have been spending the past few hours driving to Cochabamba, taking stops every now and then so that they could admire the scenery that they’d never seen before, and Woojin doesn’t know if they’ll ever be back.

He tries to train his eyes on the road ahead, but it’s hard. Not when Jihoon’s eyes are sparkling in wonder, and it feels like all the goodness in the world, all the stars and sunlight is reflected in them.

“Stop looking at me,” Jihoon deadpans. “You’re going to get us into an accident.”

“But I can’t take my eyes off you,” Woojin grins. He takes a glance off the road for a second to shoot a wink at Jihoon.

Jihoon pretends to gag at Woojin’s words. Truthfully, Woojin wants to gag too, but when he sees Jihoon’s reaction: coloured cheeks but the faintest hint of a smile, he realises that _hey_ , he’d come up with more of these cheesy lines if it made Jihoon that happy.

And it’s strangely how timely that there’s a _Honk!_ that resounds and it forces Woojin to look at the road: where the red light had turned green. Jihoon rolls his eyes when Woojin steps on the accelerator, “I told you to keep your eyes on the road.”

Woojin grins again, but he keeps his eyes on the vastness in front of him. “You’re too distracting, my love.”

  
  


Somewhere along the roads to Cochabamba, Jihoon falls asleep. Woojin lowers the volume of the music that’s playing from his mobile phone, so that all that can be heard is the sound of the wind howling.

Jihoon likes it whenever the windows of the car are open, so that there’s a constant fresh breeze that sweeps into the car. But it’s hard for them to do so back in Seoul, so they have the tinted windows up all the time where Woojin brings them out for a drive. So he can’t help but glance at the way Jihoon’s hair tussles in wind so beautifully, but he also sees the way Jihoon sniffles slightly.

He lowers the speed of their vehicle so that he can reach behind their seats to grab a thick blanket that they brought over. It’s a rather empty road, thankfully, reminding him of the roads that he’d see in a Hollywood movie.

And he pulls the blanket over Jihoon, who nuzzles into the thick cloth, and there’s a satisfied hum on his lips. “Mm, Woojinnie.”

He feels a familiar flush that spreads across his cheeks, and he wonders what Jihoon’s dreaming of.

  
  


Woojin shakes Jihoon awake when they reach the foot of San Pedro Hill. When the hill draws closer in sight, he can foresee Jihoon’s grumbles as he forces them both to climb the hill. But it brings a smile to his face, at the very thought of being able to have new experiences together with Jihoon, even though there are so many years between the experiences they share.

“Nn?” Jihoon mumbles when Woojin gives a particularly hard shake. He tries to rub the sleep from his eyes and Woojin tries to tame the back of his hair that looks vaguely like a bird nest from sleep.

When Jihoon decides that he’s awake enough, he opens his eyes and Woojin grins at him. He makes sure to let the snaggletooth peek out from the side, “Good morning, princess. Had a good sleep?”

“Mm, it was _decent_ ,” Jihoon says. “It’d have been better if your driving was smoother.”

Woojin thinks of _Mm, Woojinnie_ and soft murmurs and he tries not to chuckle. And he takes a deep breath so that he’s able to imitate Jihoon “ _Mm, Woojinnie._ I’d like to think that you had a good sleep.”

Jihoon flushes red, till the tips of his ears and Woojin feels the curiosity build up within him as Jihoon yells, “Shut up!”

“Oh?” Woojin decides to tease Jihoon. “Did you have a wet dream?”

He probably deserved the punch to his arm.

  
  


There’s a souvenir shop that sits near the tourist spot, and Jihoon’s the one to tug on Woojin’s arm so that the both of them enter the shop.

There’s a whole bunch of tourist-y charms and Bolivian cultural artefacts. Woojin thinks that it’s probably be nice for him to get something as a souvenir, for both himself, Jihoon, his family and the Brand New Music family but it’s hard to decide on something when the variety of goods stand out.

He watches Jihoon walk around the store, where he stops in front of a glass display of jewellery. And Jihoon’s probably a magnet, because Woojin always finds himself hovering close to Jihoon.

“Saw something nice?” Woojin pipes up, slinging an arm across Jihoon’s shoulders.

“Mm,” Jihoon hums, pointing to one of the bracelets. It’s a simple design: a metallic band. “That’s nice.”

A part of Woojin knows what Jihoon is hinting at, and he tries to stifle a smile. “Do you think it’s made of real silver?”

“You should have faith that they’d sell real silver stuff!” Jihoon huffs, crossing his arms. And with a softer voice, he adds, “I just want something from you…”

“Maybe we should get woolen hats. It’ll get cold at night.”

“You’re the worst!” Jihoon huffs, and hastily walks over to where the woolen hats are sitting on display. Woojin looks at the sales assistant quickly, and points to the bracelet that Jihoon had pointed out earlier.

“ **Could I get one, please?** ”

 

—

 

It’s a spur of the moment kind of thing.

They buy a tent, and get camping materials when they reach the Cochabamba proper. Neither of them know how to properly pitch a tent, so they spend more money on one that comes with a instructions sheet.

They deposit their belongings in their rented car and they take some more photos of the street murals in Cochabamba. They are equally as beautiful as the ones in La Paz, and Woojin continues to take  more photographs of Jihoon.

 _Snap, snap, snap_.

They leave the city when it’s late afternoon, so that they can get a start on heading to the very reason why they came to Bolivia.

Woojin remembers how they had been curling up in bed together, relishing in the final moments that they could be together before Wanna One disbands. It didn’t  signify their end, but it meant an end to the intimacy and shared moments that they had as Wanna One, and they will start going on their separate paths in life.

Salar de Uyuni had appeared in a tweet that was floating on Jihoon’s timeline. He remembers how enthralled Jihoon had looked, and how he promised, “Let’s come here together, one day.”

Woojin knows the countless promises that he’s made, and how some of them break—but Jihoon is different, and they make sure to keep each and every one of them.

“What are you thinking about?” Jihoon asks, his voice loud and clear as day.

“I thought you were sleeping,” Woojin remarks.

“Keyword _: was_ ,” Jihoon replies and Woojin can hear the tinge of sleepiness in his voice.

“I was thinking about Uyuni and _us,_ ” Woojin says. “It feels surreal that we really did manage to come here.”

Jihoon hums.

It’s silent after, as they continue to drive. Woojin stops driving when there’s a vast grass plain that’s next to them, and they both decide that it’d be a good place where they could set up their camp for the night.

It’s a little hard for them to work out the mechanics of setting up the camp. But Jihoon decides that he wants to try pitching  a tent, so Woojin lets him. Woojin’s in charge of making simple dinner. But Woojin never lets Jihoon escape from his line of vision, so he trains his eye on him and helps Jihoon when he can’t quite reach the top of the tent. They make sure to keep their belongings with them, just in case they get mugged or something.

Woojin has learnt the art of cooking ever since he moved to Seoul. The ingredients that they got are foreign to him, but he tries to make the best soup that he can. It doesn’t taste like how it does back in Seoul, but it warms them both up from the inside.

It’s pretty damn amazing, Woojin thinks. They are both, the only people who are sitting in this vast grass plain, and there’s a dark blanket of stars that shine above them. They both lean against the picnic blanket, so that they can look up at the sky above them. It isn’t like Seoul, where all they can see are the flickering of satellites, and a cloudy sky. It’s untouched nature that touches the deepest parts of his soul, and it reminds him of how small they are in this huge world.

Woojin props an arm up so he can lean against it, and look at Jihoon’s side profile. Taking photographs in the dark is a challenge, and the camera hangs heavily around his neck, he settles for taking a photograph of Jihoon with his eyes instead, and stores it in the deepest parts of his heart.

“Remember when we first fought?” Jihoon suddenly asks. He isn’t looking at Woojin, but at the skies above them, as if they provided the answers to the question that he asks.

“Yeah,” Woojin does. He remembers _all_ of them. He remembers all the good and the bad—everything that made them into _who_ they are today. It was a big fight back then, but when he thinks of it now, it seems so petty, so childish for them to even have fought. But they were also teenagers, with hearts of a boy growing into a body of a man. “I remember how Daehwi and Jinyoung cried. And Jisung-hyung and Minhyun-hyung looking like they aged ten years.”

It’s easy for them to laugh over the memories of the past.

“Yeah,” Jihoon grins down at Woojin.

Woojin shoves his hand into his pocket, where the bracelet that he bought earlier sits. In his haste, he hadn’t gotten any fancy packaging, but it was never about the appearances whenever it’s them, anyway.

“I got you something,” Woojin murmurs. It catches Jihoon’s attention as he looks away from the stars, to Woojin.

“What did you get me?” Jihoon asks, soft.

Woojin grins at him, and he pulls out the bracelet. He tugs on Jihoon’s wrist so that he can put it on for him.

“Since you wanted it _so_ badly,” Woojin says. He tries to make his voice sound as level as he can, but he can’t stop the smile from creeping onto his face as Jihoon gasps in surprise.

“I didn’t think you’d really buy it.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Woojin thinks that the sparkles in Jihoon’s eyes are brighter than any constellations that he’s ever tried to mapped out in the backyard of his home in Busan. There are so many stories, so many galaxies that are waiting to be explored and Woojin wants to be here for every one of them.

Woojin leans in. Jihoon leans in too.

And they kiss under the watchful eyes of the stars.

 

—

 

It’s a long drive to Salar de Uyuni. Woojin gets tired halfway, but Jihoon can’t drive so they sit on the picnic blanket, where Woojin plays with Jihoon’s fingers until he feels well-rested enough to start driving again.

Jihoon just grins at him when Woojin chastises him for not having learnt how to drive.

“I like my existing chauffeur,” Jihoon grins.

Woojin rolls his eyes.

There’s something about knowing that the salt flats, the largest ones in the world are sitting right ahead of where they are driving towards. It’s a steady excitement that drums within him, and he watches the way Jihoon taps his feet in a consistent rhythm.

Anytime now.

  
  


The salt flats are pretty damn amazing. It almost looks like they have been shipped to a separate dimension, where there is nothing but the infinite sky around them. Woojin wonders if this is how heaven looks like.

And he looks at the way the sunlight reflects off the slope of Jihoon’s nose, the way his eyes sparkle in childlike innocence, and the way Jihoon’s clutching tightly onto his hand, and Woojin feels like he’s falling in love with Park Jihoon all over again.

And he realises, that _this_ is the scenery that he wants to see for the rest of his life.

_Snap._

There are so many wonders out there in the world that are waiting for them, but Woojin thinks: Jihoon is his _universe_.

He feels the weight of the box in his pocket. It’s been there since the start of the day and he had woken up before Jihoon did. He knew all along that _this_ is how he wanted to do it, and he lets himself fall onto a single knee as he watches the way the wind dances against Jihoon’s scarf, the way he gasps in amazement at the scenery in front of them, and Woojin says, “Jihoon-ah.”

Jihoon turns to look at Woojin, but when he meets Woojin’s eyes, he gasps in shock. “Wait, what are you doing, Woojinnie?”

He knows of all the impossibilities, of how they’re going to continue to keep  it as a secret, and how they can’t get married in the place they call home but Woojin wants to believe in the future, in the possibilities of infinities that lie beyond them, just like the horizon that they can’t quite see. And it’s what that gives him that burst of courage to reach into the back of his pockets, fumbling around for the velvet box.

Woojin opens the box, and he looks straight into Jihoon’s eyes. “Will you marry me, Park Jihoon?”

He wishes that his camera wasn’t hanging idly by his neck, and that he had an extra hand for him to be able to use his camera. Because he sees the way the emotions flash within Jihoon’s eyes: of happiness, confusion, love and so many other emotions that Woojin can’t put a name to—and he watches as the tears well up in Jihoon’s eyes, but they sparkle, and they reflect all the beauty of the world that surrounds them.

“You’re so embarrassing,” Jihoon chokes out, wiping at his eyes.

“You have to reply me, babe,” Woojin grins at him. He wishes that he could reach out to wipe the tears away from Jihoon’s eyes, but he doesn’t want to stand up; not when there’s only one reason why he’d move from the position where he is.

“There’s so many people around us,” Jihoon says, the sleeves of his shirt still covering his eyes. Woojin can hear the chants _“Marry him! Marry him!_ ” vaguely in the background, but the sound of his heartbeat drowns it out. “You’re the _worst_ but I love you. I love you so fucking much, and yes, _god,_ yes.”

Woojin can’t help the smile from widening, and it almost feels like his cheeks are going to hurt, but he’s filled with so much joy and happiness within him that he wishes that they weren’t at some salt flats—but rather, at the edge of a cliff so that he can shout all his happiness.

He stands up from where he’s been kneeling down on a leg, picking out the ring from where it had been sitting in for the past few months, and he tries to remain calm as he fits the ring around Jihoon’s finger. It doesn’t really work and his hands are shaking like and Jihoon’s laughing at him despite the sniffles. But when the ring lands at the end of his finger, Woojin finds himself wrapping his arms around Jihoon, lifting him up so that he can spin Jihoon in a circle.

And he presses his lips against Jihoon’s own.

He wonders if this is what it means to have an infinity, to have an eternity lying in front of him, lying in front of _them_.

 

—

 

**(Epilogue:**

With years of being an idol, comes growth and development, and it means that Woojin gets an opportunity to move out of his dormitory. It’s hard to say goodbye to the place that he has so many shared memories at: of confiding to Daehwi, of playing around with Donghyun, of being able to feel like he’s back home in Busan with Youngmin. But as things comes to an end, it means that new paths, new beginnings also begin and Woojin can’t wait to start a new chapter of his life.

The keys weigh heavily in his front pocket, but he can’t help but smile at the weight. He watches the way Jihoon crouches over to take things out of his own cardboard boxes, whining every now and then at how they should have hired someone else to unpack all their stuff but Woojin reminds him of how they are _celebrities_ and they need their privacy, so Jihoon had pouted and relented.

“Wait,” Jihoon suddenly says, interrupting Woojin’s own unboxing session. He takes out something from his box and walks to where Woojin is. There’s something in his hand, and when it enters his field of vision, he gets reminded of what it is:

“Is that how you got my ring size?” Jihoon squints, staring at the badly-made ring made of flower stems.

He remembers. He remembers of how they were in Hokkaido, somewhere nearby during one of their filmings for a newer season of _Celebrity Bromance_ , and how they had found their way to a flower field. There was a brief pause in between filmings when they had time for themselves, and they had sat down in the beautiful flower plains of Furano, of chilly summer—and Woojin had picked up one of the flowers that had settled on the ground, curling the stem to fit against Jihoon’s finger.

Woojin tries not to grin at the memories, of how Jihoon’s eyes had sparkled when he held his hand out to the flower plains, of how he had taken a photograph of it. Woojin settles for petting Jihoon’s head, and Jihoon just growls. “My fiance, so cute, so innocent.”

“Get out.”)

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/99izm) if you'd like to die over 2park together, or please also feel free to leave any thoughts that you have on my [CC.](https://curiouscat.me/chamwink)


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